


Suou-kun

by MeltyRum



Category: Loveless, Persona 2, Persona 4, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22177813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltyRum/pseuds/MeltyRum
Summary: Tatsuya Suou, as examined by his mentors and peers.
Kudos: 16
Collections: Boku no Hero Academia x Persona





	Suou-kun

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been called here, is it, Suou-kun?” she asked, setting aside his record sheet. “I know I’m not your homeroom teacher anymore, but since _yours_ apparently has other engagements, I’ve been assigned to manage the issue of your delinquency. It sounds like your presence in class hasn’t improved much, even with Aoyagi-kun escorting you to campus.”

“Aoyagi isn’t in my class, so you can’t blame him for not making sure I’m there,” said Tatsuya, bristling a little bit as he sat before her. “You didn’t even assign someone from my year.”

Fuyumi blinked, a little surprised at his testiness. Not that she was surprised that a known delinquent might have an attitude, but surprised to hear him lashing out in defense of his classmate. She was taken aback, but tried to rally. “That wasn’t my decision, and we’re glad that Aoyagi-kun is at least bringing you to _school_ , but—Suou-kun—if you’re coming here, don’t you think you may as well be in class?”

Tatsuya lowered his eyes, looking down at her desk. Even then, his gaze looked faraway, as though he had no interest in his delinquency report—or anything else in the room. While his eyes sometimes had an intensity of focus that you rarely saw in teens, other times Tatsuya felt like he was miles away, even when he was sitting right in front of you. Fuyumi was reminded of her youngestbrother, just a little; they were both kind of scary.

“I don’t want to harp on this,” she continued, pulling another sheet from her desk. “But you’re also in your last year. Have you started preparing for entrance exams? Is there a college or professional school you’re targeting? I know that you…” she trailed off, reminding herself to tread carefully here. “I know there’s no family business or anything in the equation; no shop to inherit.”

Tatsuya just shook his head, returning his eyes to hers only briefly.

She waited for him to elaborate, but felt a sinking feeling as no words came. Was he rejecting all of it?

“Your brother has expressed concern on multiple occasions. Even though he isn’t home often, he seems to have noticed your truancy—with help from the school, I’ll admit. Have you talked with him about any of this? About what you’d like to do?” She searched his face, trying to figure out the magic sequence of words that would get him to engage. “At this rate, you won’t have a future after graduation.”

“That’s fine,” said Tatsuya. He sounded more sad than angry, but his expression was one of annoyance.

“H-huh? Fine?”

“It’s fine, Todoroki-sensei,” he repeated. He opened his mouth to continue, but apparently thought better of it.

That was the biggest trouble with Tatsuya, she thought. Always shutting down and closing himself off. Even back when she was teaching him personally, the issue was the same—though his truancy issues were even worse, back then. She could scarcely remember him being in class at all, in those days; however, the trend was more or less the same in that he still came to school surprisingly often, even then. He just never seemed to find himself in a classroom.

Fuyumi set the sheet aside again, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to get Tatsuya to fill it out. It wasn’t often that you saw someone like him: even other demotivated students would write out something that would get the teachers off their backs—they knew the _names_ of professions and universities, after all—but for whatever reason, Tatsuya couldn’t be bothered.

She sighed. “Maybe this isn’t my business, Suou-kun, but with your brother being such a busy man—and with you not enrolled in any clubs—what do you do outside of school? Are you getting into any trouble?” While he was no doubt delinquent, the boy had apparently never had any run-in with the police, so she doubted that Tatsuya was getting himself into sticky situations. It wasn’t impossible, though, that Tatsuya’s brother was pulling strings in order to cover for him.

“I have a job,” said Tatsuya, keeping his voice level. “It’s work at a mechanic.”

“Are you planning to become a mechanic, Suou-kun?”

He shrugged.

“While it’s admirable to have a part-time job, I think you should re-prioritize, Suou-kun,” she started, grateful for something to latch onto. “A job could distract you from your studies, which should come first. If you applied more diligence to your classroom, you might find a goal to work toward—college, for example, since a degree will be necessary in many places. Even your brother—”

Tatsuya sat up in his seat, frowning. He didn’t make a sound, but the movement was enough to halt Fuyumi’s lecturing. That was something else she had noticed in her time with him: Tatsuya’s brother was something of a sore subject with him, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine why. She had even met Katsuya once (again, to discuss Tatsuya’s rejection of academia) and she hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Certainly, he seemed like a stern caretaker, but that was likely exactly what Tatsuya needed.

There were limits to that kind of approach, though. That was something which Fuyumi knew all-too-well herself. The thought made her a little sick, but… could it be that Tatsuya was facing a similar situation? What if Katsuya wasn’t as strait-laced as he appeared?

She looked around the teacher’s room, making sure that none of the other teachers were too close. Lowering her voice and leaning in, she tried a different approach: “Is there some kind of issue with your home life, Suou-kun? Is your brother doing anything with you that he… _shouldn’t_?” she asked, giving him a significant look and hoping he took her meaning.

Tatsuya practically recoiled, his face momentarily wearing a mask of disgust and offense. “No. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but no.”

She let out an inaudible sigh of relief, grateful for that. Whatever was happening, Fuyumi didn’t suspect that Tatsuya would lie to her about that. “Right. I believe you; I just wanted to make sure. If anything _does_ happen, the faculty is available to you when you need to talk to someone.” Well, _some_ of them were, anyway. Half the teachers would just as soon not get involved in family issues like that; a lot of them couldn’t be bothered to get a handle on their own class’s bullying issues.

She knew Tatsuya wasn’t looking at that kind of situation either, though. For all his disinterest in school, Suou was strangely popular among his classmates—including his kouhai. She had been advising him long enough to know that he didn’t appreciate the attention much, but—unfortunately for him—his own shyness ended up somehow exhibiting as a sort of aloof magnetism, making him appear calm and capable rather than lonely and intimidating. Fuyumi suspected that many of them were probably also jealous of how little time and effort he invested into his studies. She ought to be grateful that more students didn’t follow his example, she thought.

“Is that all?” asked Tatsuya, looking prepared to leave.

“You know I can’t let you leave just like that, Suou-kun,” she said, although she wished she could confidently send him on his way. “It would really help if you could make some sort of commitment to me. There are only a few months left before graduation: is there any chance you could make the effort to be in class for those few months?”

He sighed out of his nose, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking off to the side. She could sense the guilt on his shoulders, but she also knew Tatsuya wasn’t the kind of student to pretend to agree with her just so she would dismiss him.

“I know you’ve been with some friends more often,” she prodded. “Aoyagi-kun, Iwai-kun, Dojima-san. I suppose they’re all Aoyagi-kun’s friends, but am I forgetting anyone?”

He opened his mouth to add something, but apparently rethought this as well, instead watching her with a look of mild suspicion as he kept his silence.

She tried to give him an encouraging smile. “I just wanted to say that your _friends_ are all attending their classes like they’re meant to, so it’s not as if you can see them until they’ve finished with their classes for the day, which means… you might as well attend yours, don’t you think?”

Tatsuya looked vaguely offended at being treated like a child, but his expression softened a little bit, leading Fuyumi to believe she’d made some progress. “Alright,” he said eventually. “I’ll try.”

“Good!” exclaimed Fuyumi, feeling her entire nervous system relax all at once. “It might not seem useful to you right now—especially if you don’t have a goal in mind—but you might find something that interests you. It’s important to chase _something_ , even if you might never have it.”

His only reply was a firm nod and some restless shifting in his seat. “I’m leaving, Todoroki-sensei.”

Fuyumi watched him as he made for the door, her gaze following his hand as it retreated from his pocket, clasping something small and metallic. She’d seen him fiddle with that lighter plenty of times, but had never seen him smoke—if he had been caught on campus, he would have gotten far more than some truancy notices and some counseling, after all. She was reminded of her brother again: something in the way Tatsuya handled that lighter resembled the way Shouto used to carry his left side.

“It makes me sad,” she sighed, holding her forehead in her palm as she looked down at her desk. If Tatsuya and her brother seemed so much alike, why is it that Tatsuya seemed so disinterested in having a bright future?

Relieved to be finished with her chores, Nanako took her bag back in hand, hefting the weight of her books onto her shoulder as she slid shut the door to the library behind her. The hallways were empty now, with students either having left or migrated to their club rooms. The library, though, had closed: if she wasn’t careful, a teacher would reprimand her for loitering around the school.

With this—and her current position of relative solitude—in mind, she looked around for her exit. The sun had already sank so that the sky’s glow was a dusky orange, elongating and darkening the shadows inside their humble school building. She took a step into one shadow and allowed herself a satisfied smile as she emerged from another, farther down the hall. She tried not to be _too_ pleased at how much smoother her movement was, traversing dark spots of shadow with ease—when she paced herself, at least. Jogging through the streets still presented its own set of difficulties, but hopefully she would be equipped to impress the next time she saw her big bro—or Panther, if she got _really_ lucky!

Her belly warm with the thrill that came from illicitly employing her quirk on school grounds, Nanako made for the side exit of the building, curious to see if any friends were lingering behind. As luck would have it, one student awaited her there.

“Hm? Not driving Aoyagi-kun to Junes today, Suou-senpai?” she asked, only moderately surprised to see Tatsuya on one knee, fiddling with his motorcycle by the bike racks. What was more unusual was not finding Ritsuka anywhere nearby, now that classes had been dismissed. Most of the other students had already come and gotten their bikes, paying no mind to Tatsuya’s maintenance, which happened so regularly during and after classes that it seemed like something was missing on those days where he left his motorcycle behind.

“Ritsuka had to go ahead,” he explained, tightening a bolt on the side of his vehicle. “Since I got held up in the office.”

Nanako blinked, checking her phone. “It is a little late. I had to help out in the library, so I didn’t notice.” She watched him for a moment, wondering how much her attempts at conversation were annoying him. If it wasn’t for he and Ritsuka growing close to each other, she might never have had the courage to talk to him—but Ritsuka made it look so easy, and Nanako realized that there wasn’t anything to fear regarding a quiet senpai. If anything, his reserved demeanor made him _less_ intimidating than her classmates, most of whom were threatening because they talked a little too much.

In some ways, Tatsuya reminded her of some of onii-chan’s friends: none of them were quite so serious, but being in his presence managed to be similarly comforting. Importantly, Tatsuyaseemed like a valuable ally, andthe two of them shared a sense of unease toward their classmates that she felt united the two of them, even though they seemed to be operating on opposite sides of that coin: where Tatsuya was well-regarded, Nanako was not—although things were improving in that area. Perhaps that was just the way of things, though: an introverted boy was cool, while a withdrawn girl was unfriendly and offensive.

And Tatsuya _was_ cool! So maybe what they said about her was right, too.

“What did you have to do in the office?” she asked eventually, deciding to shake those thoughts from her mind.

He was silent for a moment, scrubbing something down near one of the tires. “Just third-year things,” he sighed.

She nodded knowingly; he made it too obvious that he didn’t want to discuss it. Nanako wasn’t surprised, though: for all of the things Tatsuya had going for him, it was no secret that school wasn’t actually one of them. Even when the concept of “the future” came up in friendly conversation, Tatsuya became even more reticent than normal. Nanako, Ritsuka, Kaoru… they all had something they wanted to become—some sort of dream to pursue, at least vaguely—while the one third-year among them would seem so distant, with nothing to share.

In those moments, Tatsuya looked so… hollow. He had that look about him now, in fact, but it confused her: her senpai didn’t look _empty_ , but what was there inside of him? Maybe Ritsuka would know more about it; going around his back seemed rude, but asking Tatsuya himself seemed… worse.

“Um… don’t worry about it, Suou-kun! I mean—senpai.” She winced at her mistake, beginning to regret her clumsy attempt to cheer him up. “You’re strong, after all,” she added, remembering Ritsuka’s words to her.

To her surprise, he smiled a little. “Strong, huh?” he muttered, apparently to himself, as he rose to his feet and slipped his rag into one of the bike’s saddlebags. “Maybe I am,” he admitted. “But it takes more than strength.” She could swear he blushed a little, maybe embarrassed to say something so cliché.

Nanako gave him a thin, defeated little smile, something in his voice making her certain that she would be unable to reach him from where she was now—unable to understand the sort of place and the sort of thoughts that he was living with. He was just too mysterious—almost alien. How can a person seem so unmotivated—as though he had no future in sight—while also looking as though he was hiding some tragic master plan from everyone else?

“What do you focus on in your time, Suou-senpai? Are you always working after school?” she wondered, hitching her bag back up onto her shoulder.

When he locked his eyes to hers, she could tell that he was considering whether or not to tell her the truth… which was enough for Nanako to guess the answer to her own question.

“You aren’t, huh?” She watched him, suddenly a bit nervous about where these questions would take her. “Where do you go when you’re not at school? I wouldn’t blame you for not telling me, but it’s not like I’ll tell anyone!” she insisted, at once feeling both ashamed for trying to pry and hopeful that she could connect with one of the few people she might call a friend. If Ritsuka taught her anything, it would be that she should be more assertive, right?

“You remember when we went to that karaoke place?” he asked, pulling his lighter from his pocket and fondling it with his thumb. “There’s a club close to it; I’ve gone there sometimes. Mostly to watch or listen to the clientele.”

Nanako blinked, thinking that “club” was the last thing she was expecting to hear. “Why… why would you do that?”

He looked down at his lighter, flicking it open and closed. “Like I said: to listen. A lot of different people go to places like that—some Sevens students among them. It’s not uncommon for people to get in trouble around there. People like…” he trailed off, apparently realizing he had already said too much.

“People like Makimura-san,” Nanako finished. No one seemed to know what Tatsuya was up to in his free time, but his reaction to the news of Miki’s death was… different. Rather than exhibiting shock or sorrow (or indifference) like the rest of the school, his attitude resembled frustration. Did he blame himself for what happened? Or perhaps it was something to do with his brother? It was no secret that Katsuya Suou was leading the investigation into the murder, but Nanako couldn’t imagine how any part of that meaningfully connected to Tatsuya.

He looked surprised at her guess, though, and nodded his confirmation. “Like Makimura-san. She probably had jobs in the area. Maybe that’s how it happened.” Tatsuya paused, slipping his lighter back into his pocket. “There’s nothing I hate more than seeing our school in the news. If I can help it, I won’t let anything like that ever happen again.”

Tatsuya gave her a meaningful look which, she had to admit, made her feel a little bit safer, even if his words hardly counted as an ironclad promise. His face reminded her of onii-chan; she tried not to blush at the thought, reminding herself that Tatsuya and Ritsuka were already together. What a coincidence that such a pair of admirable and interesting boys had found each other: Nanako found herself feeling a little jealous of each one—butcounted herself lucky that they had found each other before she could make a fool of herself.

She let out a small sigh, giving Tatsuya a smile at his look of confusion. “I believe you, Suou-senpai. No one else at Sevens needs to get hurt! But you sound pretty confident that you can make a difference; did your brother tell you something about it?”

His gaze immediately shifted down to one of the handlebars on the bike, betraying just a hint of guilt. “Something like that.” He grabbed the helmet from where it hung on the front of the motorcycle, tracing a line through the film of dirt that had accumulated on it before slipping it onto his head. “It’s getting late. Do you need a ride to the station?”

Nonplussed, Nanako hesitated briefly before shaking her head. “No, no! I’ll be fine. I move faster in the dark, anyway,” she replied, smiling as Tatsuya mounted his vehicle. Again she thought of onii-chan, remembering how the two of them used to travel on his scooter. For all his aimlessness and his social foibles, it was impossible for Nanako to think badly of Tatsuya—not when he reminded her so much of Yu.

Tatsuya only gave her a nod and lifted up the kickstand, ostensibly having predicted a polite refusal.

“Good luck, Suou-senpai!” she called, uncertain how easy it was to hear her through that helmet. “Wherever you’re going, good luck. I hope you don’t get in trouble!”

“Right. Stay safe, Dojima-san; see you tomorrow.”

As she watched him apply the gas and the distance between them began to grow, she tried to figure out if she was—figuratively—getting any closer to him. Even when he deigned to open up a little bit, he somehow remained perpetually mysterious—almost as though he were just as uncertain what he was up to as everyone else was. Rather than feeling as though she and the others were getting to know Tatsuya better, it felt more like his expressions had always been both soft and stern, open and closed, comfortable with speaking while also preferring to keep to himself.

Sure, noticing these things _technically_ counted as getting to know him better, but when she asked herself how she would try to describe her friends to onii-chan, she wasn’t sure where she could possibly begin with him. A cool senpai, maybe? Someone who seemed reluctant to make friends but was also grateful to have those he had? A part-time mechanic who—apparently—spent his days fishing for criminals downtown? Even if his reputation was built on delinquency, it was hard enough to imagine a person like that, never mind trying to make someone _else_ imagine.

As Tatsuya rounded the gate on his vehicle, she found her gaze drawn to his shadow, admiring the silhouette he and his steed created. Rather than ride with him, perhaps she could one day travel alongside him, running and skipping through the shadows of his motorcycle. Even if his motivations were unclear—even if his attitude toward school was confusing—it always felt like Tatsuya was _doing_ something; maybe if she got strong enough, she could do it too.

Katsuya closed the oven door and turned the dial to kill the heat, letting out a faint sigh of relief at the completion of his work. He had been having trouble focusing lately. Even on days where, like today, he elected not to bring his work home with him, he noticed he could find pleasure in neither television nor novel; his time was spent restlessly awaiting the time when he could sleep, so that he might return to his office—or to the streets, where he might resume searching out the witnesses and clues he craved to make his case, which seemed harder and harder to find as time crept on.

He felt a little refreshed, though, at having finally gone to the market to get his hands on some ingredients. It seemed as though it had been weeks since he’d eaten anything that wasn’t out of a convenience store or a restaurant. And sure, a cake wasn’t exactly a nutritious home-cooked meal, but Katsuya was grateful to have something else to do with his hands and brain—able to craft a handmade reward for still being alive and prosperous, despite his job’s best efforts.

It relaxed him. Instead of thinking of Makimura or Velvet or Naomasa, he could think: “What’s the next step? What am I missing? Was that measurement correct? That looks like enough, doesn’t it?” It was as though he could think without thinking, moving with an empty mind which did naught but convey simple instructions to his body, controlling his limbs and moving them about as though he were nothing but a machine. Standing in the kitchen and performing his tasks became almost meditative. Monotonous activity of this nature reminded him that human beings didn’t need much to live. A bit of warmth and some calories was all it really took, most of the time.

So why was life as _complicated_ as it was? How did the world turn into the sort of place where a young girl gets brutally dismembered over a period of (probably) weeks? Or the kind of place where a man is left to fend for himself and his younger brother due to a father who…

Katsuya sighed, realizing his mind wasn’t as empty as he had guessed. He tried to return his attention to the cake before him, making sure he was satisfied with the weight and shape of it before turning to check his other ingredients, letting his ear pick up some of the droning from the television in the other room. As usual, it was some talk show whose subject he cared little for (often it was something inane, like the implications of allowing an android to attend high school), but he enjoyed it as a reminder that life was still extant outside his otherwise hushedapartment. Heroes and police might have it tougher than ever—and Katsuya might be slipping farther and farther away from his culprit—but the world still turned regardless.

He looked up as he heard the door’s lock sliding out of place and swiftly threw off his apron, moving to stand expectantly in the entryway as Tatsuya stepped inside, meeting Katsuya’s eyes briefly before tugging his shoes off.

“I’m home,” said Tatsuya wearily, stepping past Katsuya into the hallway.

“You’re back late, Tatsuya,” Katsuya observed, following him back toward the kitchen. “I’m guessing you weren’t at work. Didn’t I already ask you to stay out of—wait a second, did you get hurt?”

“Just a scratch,” replied the younger brother, lifting a hand to the gauze taped to his forehead. “Headbutted an exhaust pipe,” he said with a shrug, as though he truly didn’t care whether or not his brother believed him.

Katsuya regarded him with some suspicion, staring for a moment before letting out a small sigh. “We should talk about this. Come join me in the kitchen; I know it’s not the season for it, but I’m working on a strawberry shortcake.”

“Talk about what?” Tatsuya protested, even as he followed. “Work?”

“There’s no mechanic that stays open this late—and there certainly isn’t one that would keep a high school part-timer for this long,” said Katsuya crisply, inadvertently slipping into his _work_ voice. “I might be with the force, but you’re not going to get in trouble by being _honest_ with me, Tatsuya.”

After briefly glancing over Katsuya’s progress on the cake, Tatsuya sank into one of the nearby chairs, setting his school bag down loudly on the floor. “Been a while since you asked. Thought you might have dropped it.”

“Right.” He started spreading a layer of his whipped cream on one of the round cakes before him. “Unfortunately for you, I still have an interest in your well-being—as an elder brother, if not as a cop. Mom and dad aren’t here to look out for you anymore.”

“Or you,” Tatsuya pointed out, brow wrinkling in annoyance. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like dad.”

Katsuya looked up from his labors, locking his eyes to Tatsuya’s, examining his cold gaze and trying to figure out what he meant by that. Just like dad? Exactly how much did Tatsuya know about his work?

“That won’t happen,” Katsuya assured him. “Times have changed; it’s not going to be like his investigation. Delinquency in and out of school is something to be much more worried about. What are you going to _do_ when you’re done with school, Tatsuya? You only have half a semester left.”

Tatsuya made as if to respond, but promptly bit his tongue, instead tapping his fingers on the table in irritation.

“You’re lucky you haven’t _already_ had trouble with the law. Students your age shouldn’t be out in the city so late.” He paused his lecture to layer some macerated strawberries into his disc of cream-covered cake. “I certainly hope you’re not wandering around in your school uniform—wherever it is you’re wandering.”

“I’m just a teenager with a useless quirk,” the younger man reminded him. “What could I possibly be up to?”

“That’s what I wish you would just tell me. Your problems are my problems, you know,” he replied firmly, feeling slightly ridiculous to be having this conversation as he continued to build up his cake. He asked for it, though; it felt like it was his duty to remind his brother that he was concerned about him—that he wanted him to grow up and live a normal and happy life, and that this could only be achieved with discipline.

“You can start with that wound,” offered the older brother. “I know it wasn’t an exhaust pipe.”

Tatsuya shook his head, exhaling loudly out through his nostrils.

“Does Aoyagi-san know you’re getting yourself injured? Does _he_ know what you’re up to after school?” He had actually considered trying to get the information from Ritsuka himself, but he was clearly a smart boy—and smitten enough with Tatsuya that Katsuya felt he had little hope of being able to grill the answers out of him. He tried to let the fact comfort him: if Ritsuka _did_ know whatever Tatsuya was doing, then the boy at least seemed responsible and smart enough that it meant—perhaps—that Tatsuya wasn’t up to anything dastardly at all.

Tatsuya rose to his feet, clearly offended. “Leave Ritsuka out of it.”

“I’m trying to, Tatsuya,” Katsuya said calmly, setting his second layer of cake atop the first and beginning to liberally dress the entire thing in his whipped cream. “But I’ll need answers from someone. If you’re out there getting yourself into trouble, it’s just a matter of time until Seven Sisters ends up in the news again.”

While he wasn’t expecting it, something that Katsuya said must have winded Tatsuya. When he turned to look at his brother, the face he saw was a mixture of surprise and guilt. Tatsuya sank back into his chair, shaking his head slowly. To Katsuya, it read a little like an admission of defeat—but one which was accompanied by unspoken words: “it can’t be helped”.

“I guess I won’t ask again,” sighed Katsuya. “Because I know you won’t answer. But I want you to know that I’m always interested: when you get hurt, I want to know why. And how. And when you’re getting up to some kind of shady business in the city—which you can’t talk about, making it all the more suspicious—I want to hear about it.”

Silence.

“You think I’ll tell you not to do whatever you’re doing, so it’s hard to blame you. But if it’s illegal… I need to advise you to stop it. Focus on your studies and you’ll be fine; I guess you won’t agree with that, though.” Finished with the heap of strawberries, Katsuya cut a neat slice out of his freshly-prepared cake before bringing it to Tatsuya on a plate. “You can take this upstairs. Think about what I said. We’re the only family we’ve got, so I’d like it if you took me more seriously.”

“I could make the same request,” said Tatsuya unironically, rising once again to his feet as he took his bag in one hand and the cake in another.

“If you’re not going to come clean, then at least be careful,” advised Katsuya, before giving a brief, dejected shake of his head. “I should count myself lucky you don’t come home smelling like alcohol, at least.”

“I’m not stupid, you know. And like I said, I’m not the one who needs to be careful,” replied Tatsuya levelly, giving his older brother a meaningful look. “Thanks for the cake,” he added, hastily turning toward the stairs.

Katsuya watched sullenly as he allowed Tatsuya to retreat back to his room, hoping he wouldn’t one day have to arrest his own brother. As far as their arguments went, he was grateful that this one remained rather calm throughout, although it never failed to leave a bad taste in Katsuya’s mouth when his brother used their father as an excuse to undercut the necessity of his profession.

He turned back to his cake, determined to—at least for the moment—cover up that bad taste with something sweeter.


End file.
